Katniss sank down onto her bed, feeling her legs all but give out from under her. She was probably going to regret how hard she'd pushed herself, later, but she didn't care. She had to get out of this bunker, sooner rather than later.
"I know a few dances, from Twelve," she said. "I don't think I know the one you were doing." She lifted her hands, running them over her face and back over her hair, to smooth the wild strands that had gotten in her face. The rest of it was back in its usual braid, hanging down over one shoulder.
The smallest hint of a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. There were probably specific things that people said whenever someone confessed to having a boy interested in them, but Katniss hadn't had enough of these conversations — or any of them, really — to know what they were. She settled for, "That's good. I mean — you look like you're happy about it."